Pies & Peril (19 page)

A fist-sized silver jingle bell suspended from a red silk cord on the door handle tinkled when Amy walked into the store.
Circular clothing racks, arranged by color, filled the space. Headless, limbless, unmistakably female torsos sporting the latest after-dark attire posed on top of each rack. Amy shuffled through the white selections nearest to the door and picked out a sheer baby doll nightie with a matching bikini and sparkly feather trim. The loose fitting, yet see-through, top was steamy for Alex with a nice, flouncy bit of belly camouflage to make her happy. Sold. She needed to hustle to Riverbend before Alex decided she'd been gone too long and sent out a search party. Nobody was behind the checkout counter, so she dinged the service bell next to the cash register.

"
Just a moment," a voice called from the nether regions of the store.

Amy laid the negligee set onto the glass display case that served as a counter. Elaborate masks, sequin-covered pasties
, and minuscule g-strings were arranged on the shelves inside. The clerk took up her position behind the counter while Amy intently studied a white mask covered with intricate silver glitter filigree, considering whether it would match the nightie.

"
What kind of pie are you making for the contest?"

When she had entered the store, the possibility an employee would ask
a personally probing question had crossed her mind. Pie was not a subject she had anticipated. She looked up to find Rayshelle Applebee staring at her. The owners of the store must have the intimate apparel market cornered in Kellerton and didn't worry about offering excellent customer service.

"
Fruit."

"
What kind of
fruit?
" Rayshelle had somehow managed to turn fruit into a three syllable word. A rather impressive feat of pronunciation, but she needed some work on her manners. Blatant interrogation delivered with a sledge hammer approach wasn't going to work. Amy just wanted to buy a little fabric confection as a treat for Alex and get to the treats for herself at Riverbend. Time to hit the shortcut button and get the game over.

"
Cooked."

Rayshelle
's face contorted and then reconfigured into another grimace. It looked like she was trying to do an imitation of the creepy comedy and tragedy masks Amy's high school drama teacher had hung on the wall behind her desk. The two-inch wide stripe of dark roots running down the middle of Rayshelle's bleached blonde hair certainly added a dramatic backdrop to the facial gymnastics demonstration.

"
I know it's going to be cooked. What other way would it be?" Rayshelle asked as she scanned the UPC code on the price tag, crumpled the ensemble into a ball, and stuffed it into a hot pink shopping back stamped with a line drawing of bulging cleavage edged with lace.

"
Refrigerated, like fresh fruit pies with glaze," Amy responded. As she pulled her wallet out of her purse, she poked around the pens and receipts looking for the pouch that contained a reusable fabric shopping bag. No way was she carrying around the questionably adorned pink bag in plain sight. The store probably had more discreet packaging, but it wasn't worth asking.

"
Yeah. Right." Rayshelle snatched the money out of Amy's hand. "Thanks for reminding me of that."

Doesn
't sound thankful, Amy thought as she unfurled the thin, fabric tote that had, for once, been easy to find in the messy purse. Not that she was expecting gratitude.
She
was grateful that Rayshelle didn't say anything else as she handed back change along with the little bag. Amy dropped the money into her purse and the package into the wonderfully opaque tote. Then she tossed the bag full of cookbooks on top. It didn't matter if the lingerie got squished since Rayshelle had already wadded it up.

"
Thank you." Amy took a couple steps backward while maintaining eye contact, just in case the frustrated pie baker decided to go angry ninja and use a stiletto-heeled pump, instead of a throwing star, for an assassination attempt. The jingle of the door bell drew Rayshelle's attention. Amy spun, dodged the assorted animal print rack, and successfully made it out the door without being attacked.

*  *  *

Amy shifted the to-go coffee cup to her left hand so she could open the door and steeled herself for the impending blast of cold. She tugged on the door handle tentatively, just in case the stubborn hinge had been fixed. It hadn't, so she gripped the metal plate tightly and took a step backward to get the momentum going. The door at Maxson's Bakery just seemed like it didn't want to let people inside.

Elliot stood next to the cash register, his usual post. A rectangle of darkness was above the swinging doors to the kitchen.
Weird. Every other time she had stopped in the afternoon the back room was lit up as bakers clanged around making cookies and cakes. Amy took a sip of the brown sugar and cinnamon latte, but didn't need its warmth. The usual ice arena atmosphere had turned bipolar and was now going for tropical hot. Amy glanced at the clock hanging on the wall behind Elliot. She had been gone long enough from Alex's supervision, so she needed to make the visit quick. The pleasant, foodie chat with Sophie, at Riverbend Coffee, had lasted longer than expected.

"
I just stopped in to pick up the donation jar."

A fake, creepy smile had been cemented on his face since she walked through the door. The House of Horrors look softened a bit as he said,
"I am regretful my customers weren't more generous with their contributions."

Yet he wasn
't regretful for his own stinginess. "Not a problem. Like I said last night, I've decided to purchase a less expensive brick instead of the memorial bench. I'm only a few dollars away from having all of the money raised, so I can order it soon."

"
You are obviously quite adept at fundraising, considering how disliked Mandy Jo was." He steepled his hands in front of his chest. "Being well-known in our little foodie community has served you well. I am delighted to inform you that I have formulated a proposal that could make your name even more recognizable, a boon to your future charity campaigns."

Amy took a deep, cleansing breath in through her nose. It smelled like vanilla in the bakery. Wasn
't that supposed to be a calming scent?

He continued,
"If you would supply me with the recipe for one of your prize-winning delights, I would include your name on the identification tag in my bakery case. Every person that peruses my baked goods selection will see your name."

So he wanted to make money off the hard work she
'd put into developing a recipe in exchange for putting her name on a slip of paper? Was she supposed to be flattered to see her name next to tie-dyed sugar cookies and lemon poppy seed muffins while he pocketed all of the profits from the sales? "Slimy" was too mellow of a word to describe Elliot.

Amy shook her head. A flood of not-so-kind words were log jammed in the back of her throat. Better to leave while she still had an ounce of composure.
"I don't think so," she managed to say.

A door slammed somewhere in the darkness of the bakery
's back room. Elliot glanced at the swinging doors leading to the space. Amy spun around and rammed the stubborn, heavy door with her shoulder.

"
Consider it, and contact me when you have made a decision," he called as a stream of hot latte gurgled out of the lid of the to-go cup and cascaded down the back of Amy's hand. Not only had the scheming baker offended her, he also made her spill part of the yummy latte. Jerk. Actually, despite what Shepler thought, now that Kevin and Lucy were cleared of the murder, Elliot could be far more than a simple jerk.

She glared at the brown splotches on her pale yellow skirt as she turned to walk back to Alex
's office. Her phone chortled in her purse. Amy plopped down on a cement bench edging one of the raised flowerbeds that punctuated the sidewalks at regular intervals along Main Street. It was Alex calling. She expected a scolding for skipping out when he was busy, but instead got an offer to pick her up since the meeting was finally over. Saved from a three-block long walk of stained skirt shame.

They agreed to meet at the park on the other side of the river
in 15 minutes. As she walked back past Maxson's Amy noticed the sign in the window had been flipped to
Closed
. The entire bakery was dark. She had never seen the business closed in the middle of the afternoon. She walked out the front door barely two minutes earlier. Elliot and whoever had been in the back room were probably leaving out the back door.

Instead of continuing straight, over the bridge and onto the park, Amy turned and walked close to the side wall of Riverbend Coffee. When she reached the back corner she stopped and pretended to take a picture of the river with her phone. Elliot and Kristi
's voices traveled along the back of the buildings. She could hear them loud and clear.

"
Business has been rather sluggish this afternoon providing the optimal excuse to take the afternoon off."

"
We've never closed early before because there weren't any customers. What's so special about today?"

"
Ahh, you've seen through my transparent attempt at deception. The truth is, I have a surprise for you, my darling."

Two cars
' doors slammed and an engine rumbled to life. Amy was glad she had put Shepler on her phone's contact list. Her hands were shaking so much she could barely hit the call button. It would've taken her about a dozen attempts to enter full phone number one digit at a time.

As she hurried across the bridge to meet up with Alex, she explained her newest theory to the detective. Of course, she left out the part about sneaking around to eavesdrop on the couple. She just said that she had overheard Elliot tell his wife that he had taken drastic measures to take care of a situation. If the situation was Mandy Jo, he had admitted to his wife that he committed murder. What if the surprise for Kristi was killing her so she couldn
't implicate him?

Amy
was sitting on a memorial bench for Dr. Harold Crooker, dabbing at the coffee blotches with a stain remover wipe, when Alex's Jeep pulled into a parking spot on the perimeter of the park. Shepler had sounded skeptical about her newest theory, but promised to discretely check on the couple. No way would she let maniacal Elliot kill another woman. Not when she was onto him. If he thought the only thing she could do was bake an awesome tangerine pound cake, he had better think again.

The hot sunshine made her feel like a salmon roasting on a cedar plank.
Hopefully Alex had the air conditioning cranked up in the Jeep. As she was gathering tote bag and purse she glanced down at the walkway studded with memorial bricks. In her rush to get away from Elliot she had left the donation jar behind. Fantastic.

"There were only a few dollar bills and lots of pennies. A handful of change shouldn't add up to more than a couple dollars, right?" Amy leaned sideways so she could make eye contact with Alex as he stole another biscuit from the basket sitting on the kitchen island. "It isn't worth going back there, don't you think?"

He split open the black pepper flecked biscuit and spread pimiento cheese on each half.
"You didn't need to go to the bakery and mess with Maxson in the first place. I'm making the decision. You are not going back again for a few cents. You said he's been behaving oddly. Even if he wasn't driving the pickup, you still need to stay away from him."

Amy frowned.
She was glad he didn't know about her eavesdropping expeditions. Hopefully Shepler wouldn't mention the "overheard" conversations. Alex would pack her suitcases and ship her to Alaska as a precautionary measure. "I wasn't messing with him. I was being courteous and trying to pick up the donation jar so he wouldn't have to bother with it anymore."

Amy opened the oven door a crack to peek at the chicken. Crispy, panko bread crumb crusted chicken breast strips with spicy maple dipping sauce, flaky biscuits
, and steamed green beans were on the dinner menu. Comfort food with a hint of healthiness from the beans.

The chicken needed to bake a bit longer. No matter how
much Elliot freaked her out, she was incapable of leaving a loose end twisting in the wind. "I'm going to send him an email. I'll say we have enough money, so he can donate what's in the jar to the animal shelter or wherever he wants. He can throw the jar away or use it as a vase. I don't care."

"
Sounds like a fantastic idea," Alex said as he pulled the cork out of a bottle of Prosecco.

An hour later Amy leaned back on the cushioned bench in the breakfast nook. Bubbly wine and crispy chicken shared with a hunky husband.
And the police were hot on the trail of the killer. Life was good. Across the kitchen, the computer sitting in the little office nook beeped. She had forgotten to close the email program after sending Elliot the message.

She picked up the wine bottle and raised an eyebrow at Alex.
"Is that email from Elliot, a spammer, or someone else? Correct answer wins you the last glass of Prosecco."

Mischievousness glittered in his eyes.
"All of the above."

Amy feigned an annoyed pout.
"That wasn't an option. Only one beep, so only one email came in. Can't be all three at once."

"
What if it's a mass marketing letter begging you to buy cookies from Maxson's Bakery and it's signed by Elliot and his wife?"

She took the bottle with her as she crossed the room to the computer.
She sucked in a breath. Elliot
had
replied to her email. She had expected him to be in jail for attempting to murder his wife by that time, not taking care of office work. What was going on?

I dont want to keep it. Meat me at the bakery in 2 hrs to pickup the stuff.

She stared at the screen while her heart shuddered behind her ribs. "Points for creativity on your part, but you just missed the correct answer by a hair. It's Elliot. I have to say, I didn't think he'd have time to answer me tonight."

"
So close! Why did you think he'd be busy?"

Ummm.
"I overheard him talking to Kristi this afternoon. Sounded like they had plans, but now he wants me to come by the bakery in a couple hours to pick up the donations, for some reason."

"
Tell him no, you're busy."

She jumped. Alex had crossed the kitchen while she was panicking. He
pushed back her hair and kissed the spot on her neck that always made her shiver from head to toe. It felt like her body had been sprinkled with spicy, tingly Szechuan pepper. A nice distraction at any other time, but not when a killer was trying to lure her to an empty building. She swallowed. Until she figured out what was happening, she needed to act normal.

"
Okay, but please stop kissing that spot, my legs are going to turn to pudding and I need to concentrate. If I don't reply to him, you know I'll feel guilty and be distracted."

He gently nipped her earlobe.
"Answer him. Hurry."

Was it the wine
, or had she innocently included some kind of aphrodisiac in their meal? For Alex, the evening was off to a steamy start, and she hadn't even brought out the see-through nightie. Now that was a non-fattening confection they could've both enjoyed for dessert. If only she wasn't preoccupied with outsmarting a killer.

She sat down
on the desk chair and reread the email. Recognition clanged in her mind like a dinner bell. "This email isn't from Elliot. It's from the real murderer."

*  *  *

"Tell me again why you think the killer wrote this instead of Maxson?" Shepler stared at the computer screen for a few seconds and then straightened to his usual towering giant height. "I wasn't good at English in school."

Amy took a deep, calming breath. It was so obvious, but Shepler didn
't seem convinced. "Have you ever listened to Elliot talk? I think he is a reincarnated English professor, as well as being a card carrying member of the Grammar Police. There are no apostrophes in the contraction and several misspelled words in this two sentence email. The same sort of mistakes that all of the notes have. His email account has been hacked by the real killer, the same person who has been sending me the notes. I was wrong about the killer and the note-writing psychopath being two different people. And while I'm admitting my mistakes, I was wrong about Elliot being the murderer. He closed the bakery early today, so there's no good reason for him to be there until tomorrow morning. This email is bait to lure me to an empty building. Then kill me."

He wiped his hand over his face and bent, once again, to read the email.
"I see the resemblance between this and the notes. Do you have any emails that you think are actually from Maxson so I can do a comparison?"

Amy slid
onto the wooden chair and typed Elliot's email address into the search box. "Here you go. These are the emails he sends out to the Summer Festival contest participants."

She set the screen up so the emails were visible side by side and stood up. Shepler took her place in the chair. After a few minutes he nodded.
"These messages were sent from the same account, but I don't think they were written by the same person either."

"
See! I told you so."

Shepler inhaled sharply as he stood.
"I'm going to step outside and make a phone call. I'll be back in a few minutes."

When he walked out the door, Amy looked at Alex. He held his arms out for a hug
, and she gladly curled up in the embrace. Outside the thumps of Shepler pacing on the front porch traveled back and forth across the length of the kitchen. Finally he tapped on the door and came back in.

"
Respond to the message. Say you'll meet him at the bakery at 10 p.m."

*  *  *

"Don't you want me to go in? I could wear a wire and try to get a confession on tape."

"
No!" Shepler and Alex said at the same time. They rolled their eyes at each other then Shepler continued, "I can get the admission of guilt myself, after an arrest is made. That's my job, not yours."

"
At least let me fix your wig a bit," Amy said to the female police officer who was going to impersonate her. The cheap, blonde wig was cockeyed and needed a good brushing. Since the woman showed up 20 minutes after Shepler made his phone call, she obviously came up with the disguise in a hurry. "I'm sure you don't want to give yourself away as an impostor the minute you step out of the car."

The woman took a step backward.
"Thanks, but I only need to get close enough to make the arrest. The parking area will be dark, and I'll wear a hoodie. I just need to get through the door."

Shepler checked his cell phone.
"Time to get going." He held his hand out to Amy. "Your car keys, please."

She sighed loudly as she plucked the keychain off the hook near the door.
They needed to borrow Mimi to keep from arousing suspicion, but didn't care if the impersonator barely looked like her. "If there's a shootout, please try not to hit my car. She's my baby."

It was Shepler
's turn to sigh as he handed the keys over to Officer Carson. "I doubt there will be gunfire. It should be an uneventful arrest."

"
As long as there is an arrest." Amy looked at the clear glass cookie jar sitting on the island. It was filled to the top with apricot oatmeal cookies. She pointed at it and said, "I'll give you all of the cookies in the jar if you let me come along. I just want to see for myself that this nightmare is over. I'll ride in the back seat."

He studied the
thick cookies studded with orange colored jewels of dried fruit. "I understand you want closure, but I can't let you come along, especially since you are the target of the killer."

She laced her fingers together to plead.
"I'm willing to let you cart me around like a criminal, and I promise I won't whine. Did I mention the apricots are soaked in dark rum?"

He shook his head.
"Sorry."

"
Come on." She stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. "I figured out who the killer is and handed them to you on a silver platter. I want to see the arrest. Think of it as payment for my sleuthing services."

"
No can do," Shepler said as he followed Officer Carson out the door. "One. We're not positive you're right about this meeting being another murder attempt, and two, ride-alongs are against the rules. Real life isn't an episode of Castle. No civilians allowed."

Amy stomped her foot and turned to Alex for solace. She buried her face in his chest.
"I just want to see with my own eyes that it's over."

He rested his chin on the top of her head as the door slammed shut. He said,
"We'll wait for them to get a head start. I have an idea for how we can watch and stay out of trouble with the law."

*  *  *

Alex ran his ID card through the security terminal. The lock clicked open. He held the heavy glass door open for Amy then made sure it locked again behind them. Dim security lights in the baseboards lit up the office but in a spooky, a-ghost-could-appear-at-any-moment way.

"
Do you want to take the stairs or elevator?" he asked.

Amy ran to the floating, glass tread staircase. The clicks of her ballet flats on the marble tile floor echoed through the empty office like firecrackers.
"I'm so excited I think I need to burn off some energy."

"
Be careful," Alex said from the shadows behind her. "I don't want to turn the overhead lights on and draw anybody's attention."

She sprinted up
the main stairs to the second floor landing. The shadows and darkness made the stealthy trek through the office building
seem
dangerous, even though the real danger was three blocks away. She was too excited to worry about a stubbed toe. She called to Alex for navigation help. "Where are the stairs to the third floor?"

He
caught up with her and pointed at a door to the left with a glowing sign that said
Stairs
next to it. "Slow down. There's still 10 minutes before Officer Carson is supposed to arrive. You don't need to hurt yourself falling
up
the stairs."

"
I don't want to miss anything!" She yanked open the door. The edge of each tread was marked by a string of tiny, LED lights. "I won't complain if I get a boo-boo. I promise."

"
In that case," Alex said as he pushed the door open farther, "I'll race you."

They thundered up the steps with Amy barely keeping
a small lead. She pulled open the upper door and scrambled into the cavernous open room that made up the entire third floor of the building. It was the area were his company laid out the trade show displays they constructed. In the dark, it seemed to be empty. She squealed when Alex's arms tightened around her waist.

"
Where's the light switch?" she asked. "There aren't any security lights up here."

"
Don't turn the lights on. The windows are floor to ceiling and we'll stick out like a neon sign standing in them at night."

"
Mmm, good point." She twisted in his embrace and found his mouth with her fingertips. The warm tip of his tongue darted out from his soft lips. She pressed her hips against him. He groaned as she ran her fingers through his hair and pulled his head toward her for a kiss. A flash of light caught her attention. She turned her head while Alex's lips searched her neck for the special tingly spot. A dark pickup truck emerged from the residential neighborhood and pulled into one of the employee parking spaces behind Maxson's Bakery.